


wait for summertime, coming up for air

by segmentcalled



Series: i wanna wake up with you [1]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Communication, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Riding, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, aka brian goes to e3 this year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19198360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/segmentcalled/pseuds/segmentcalled
Summary: Brian has had this ache deep in his chest every time he looks at Pat formonths. Hell, he’s had this ache since maybe before he even met him, and he’d hoped it would go away after he got to know him — surely he couldn’t live up to Brian’s idle daydreams — but it had only gotten worse, when he discovered what it felt like to make Pat smile. To make him laugh.





	1. live my life without coming up for air

**Author's Note:**

> hello! some quick notes, just to cover bases preemptively:  
> \- i am a certified trans (tm) so like.... drawin from my own (& my partners') experiences. time 2 project babey  
> \- brian is trans in this fic but obviously standard rpf disclaimer this has nothing to do with bdg's irl identity. this is fictional bdg i do what i want  
> \- mostly they avoid discussing his junk directly but anything mentioned uses just, the actual term for what it is, no slang other than just like 'clit' for 'clitoris.' which may actually be the only overt mention. ANYWAY i know that can be a complicated subject for pretty much any trans individual so, fair warning on that  
> \- brian has had top surgery and hysterectomy and isn't personally interested in bottom surgery yeehaw  
> \- pat is gay and has only previously had encounters with ppl who don’t have the same junk as brian but he doesn't make it weird cause i'm not about that shit tyvm
> 
> title from [anna sun by walk the moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlIeCJWevCI)

He’ll go on the record: he’s not one for unplanned hookups. In fact, he’s never gone through with one — never gone further than kissing, not with someone who’s not a well-established partner, who already knows the things about him that he’d want them to know, beforehand.

But.

Pat Gill, man.

He’s something else.

Brian has had this ache deep in his chest every time he looks at Pat for _months_. Hell, he’s had this ache since maybe before he even met him. He’d hoped it would go away after he got to know him. Surely he couldn’t live up to Brian’s idle daydreams. But it had only gotten worse, when he discovered what it felt like to make Pat smile. To make him laugh. To — to climb all over him, even, hot sweaty bodies pressed too close together, supporting each other, Pat grabbing him by the thigh —

(He’d been real glad, after that stream, that he doesn’t have equipment that would’ve given him away. He’d been real ashamed, after, when he’d gone home and locked himself in his room and shoved his hand down his pants before he even so much as took off that jean jacket. But not ashamed enough to not come with his face shoved into his pillow to muffle his moans, muffle his choked gasps of Pat’s name.)

And it’s — for crying out loud, it’s E3.

They shouldn’t. Like, they _really_ shouldn’t. They both have to wake up early tomorrow. They shouldn’t have been drinking with Chelsea and Chris and a rotating friendly cast of other games journalists, who kept wanting to talk to Brian because they know who he is now, because he’s not some random new anxious baby-faced nerd at his first E3 anymore, now that it seems like everyone on god’s green earth has seen him lose his mind on camera time and time again. Brian shouldn’t have noticed how Pat never ever looked jealous of him, just proud, just leaned over to throw in his two cents to the conversation, and if it brought him scooting a little closer to Brian every time, who’s to tell?

But mostly they very much absolutely should not have gone back to their room all giggly and a little tipsy and a little too handsy to be strictly appropriate.

Brian isn’t sure who kissed who first. He isn’t even sure it wasn’t a simultaneous decision.

Pat’s got him up against the bedroom wall, now, his hand fisted in Brian’s hair, his tongue down Brian’s throat, and Brian is so turned on it burns through his whole body and he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to stop, he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to tear himself away and sleep in his own bed on the other side of the room. He could escape to the couch, maybe, but people would ask what happened, their coworkers would get all concerned — and he doesn’t want to, anyway. Doesn't want to stop. Doesn't want to go.

He’s fine, sharing a room with Pat. With any of his male coworkers, honestly. He roomed with Clayton last year, and that went off without a hitch. Brian hasn’t had to wear a binder since he was twenty-one, so that's not even something to fret about anymore, and if he turns his back when he’s changing his shirt then it’s not like anyone would see the scars. They’re not even so drastic, with four years of healing behind them.

But. It’s a little more obvious, when they’re pressed against each other, that Brian isn’t hard, and Pat is, and he’s just waiting for Pat to notice and assume Brian isn’t interested and to pull back, step away.

That’s what usually happens, anyway.

And Pat, to his credit, _does_ notice and pull back and step away.

“Sorry, I — I should’ve asked, if you wanted to, before I pounced on you. God. I’m sorry —“

“No! No, you’re fine, I — I was into it too, I’m — I — I liked it,” Brian says, stuttering more than he’d like to. God, can he be put together for one fucking _second_ off-camera? Or, hell, on-camera too, after the disaster streams of the past week, he’s not picky, he just wishes he could fucking _talk._

“I — I’m sorry, I can go crash on the couch —“

“No, shut up, listen to me. I’ve wanted you for fucking ages, I want nothing more than to keep doing this, I’m a trans man and I don’t have a dick so if that’s what you were going by to gauge my interest I’m afraid you’re going to have to use a different metric. Because, Pat Gill, I am _very fucking interested,_ okay?”

“Oh.”

“I mean — if that’s a dealbreaker, I understand —“

Pat kisses him. He holds nothing back, this time: he braces himself against the wall and rocks his hips hard against Brian’s and wrenches a moan out of his own damn self. Brian grabs his ass, selfishly, and drags him back in again; Pat makes another desperate sound.

“Pat. Patrick. Are we gonna — can we — will you fuck me, holy shit.”

“I — yes oh my god yes can I please?” Pat says in a rush. And then freezes. “I don’t — I don’t have a condom or anything —“

Brian is blasé in his answer, blunt in a lighthearted way, hopes that it might chase away whatever worries Pat has: “I don’t have a uterus, I haven’t fucked anyone since my last STI test and I’m all clear —“

“Same — I mean obviously I don’t have a — wait, how do you not —?”

Brian only just abstains from making a wisecrack about inappropriate usage of a melon baller, a running awful joke he's had with Laura since forever that he's certain would not land with Pat the way he'd want it to, and instead very maturely says, “I got it yoinked out a couple years ago.” He’d spent a good chunk of that year recovering from surgeries, but it was worth it, for how he feels infinitely better in his skin these days.

“Yoink,” Pat mutters, echoing him absentmindedly, and then he laughs. “Alright, okay, I mean — fuck, yeah, let’s do this thing.”

Brian hauls him off to his bed, tugs at his shirt to get him on top of him.

“I, uh, I haven’t — done this, specifically, before —“ Pat says, suddenly almost shy.

“That’s alright. I’ll tell you if you’re doing something wrong. Trust me,” Brian says, with a little smile, and Pat laughs.

“I appreciate a man who knows what he wants.”

“Well. You’ve come to the right place, because what I really want is you,” Brian says, and then pulls Pat in by his shirt collar before he can get embarrassed about being sappy.

Fuck, kissing him is _good._ His beard feels nice against Brian’s face, not too prickly. He is pliant enough to let Brian guide him where he likes him, but isn’t without initiative, either; he tests the waters to see what gets a reaction out of Brian.

What gets a reaction turns out to be — a _lot,_ because Brian hasn’t gotten any in well over a year, hasn’t so much as kissed someone since his last visit to — well. He’s not gonna think about that right now.

But Pat licks into his mouth and bites at him and sucks on his lips and it all feels so fucking good, he can’t help but react, can’t help but moan and whimper and writhe under him. He desperately, _desperately_ wants Pat inside him, but they haven’t taken any goddamn clothes off yet so the best he can do is grind on Pat’s thigh to try and get some relief.

“Please, Pat, c’mon,” Brian gasps out between kisses, and with reluctance Pat sits back, not wanting to stop touching but knowing that the reward for it will be better.

They both undress quickly, giving up on pretense. Brian’s breath catches in his throat at the sight of Pat. He’s skinny and bony, yeah, but that’s not bad — he looks a little shy, but Brian just wants to touch him everywhere, cover every inch of his skin in kisses, trace his fingers up the knobs of his spine. He’s beautiful.

Maybe when he’s not about to combust from need, he can give all that a go.

But Brian shucks off his underwear and squirms back under Pat. All things considered, he’s never been that distressed by his junk — not enough to want to do anything about it, anyway — but it’s a little unnerving when his chosen partner is a gay cis man who has never had anything to do with what Brian’s packing.

Pat goes with it, doesn’t try to shift around to get a better look at him when he’s obviously moved back so quickly so as not to be scrutinized, and Brian appreciates it.

“Can you tell me if there’s anything I really shouldn’t do? Or say? Or anything? I just — super don’t want to step in it,” Pat says, in a nervous rushed whisper.

“Uh. Here. Quick pro tips. My nipples don’t have a ton of sensation, so anything you’d do there would be more for you than for me, though I don’t mind that. I can get kind of weird about any conceivable noun for my junk so if you’re into, like, dirty talk, I’m sorry but that might need a longer conversation than I am prepared for right now. Other than that. I think it’s pretty straightforward.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Oh, and, fun hack: I usually can come like at least four times with a vibrator when I jerk off.” He feels very smug when Pat’s jaw physically drops at that. That’s a talent he’s pretty proud of, thank you very much, and it's always fun to impress a new partner with. “I’m bad at it with my hands ‘cause it is so fucking hard to multitask but I’ve been known to have good luck with partners. So. Yeah. And don’t worry about technique, I’ll make sure you know what to do when you get there.” He winks, for good measure.

“How do you have enough energy for that, holy shit,” Pat says.

“Just lucky, I guess. And it’s real easy to get off if I just shove a vibe against my clit. Hard not to, when that’s the parameters.”

“Jesus,” Pat says, stunned.

“I’ll let you watch sometime,” Brian says, and reels him back in for more kisses.

It is so very fucking good, the feel of skin on skin. Pat is hot, in every sense of the word, and Brian is bad at being still and every time he moves he presses against him in a different equally wonderful way. He loves this, the tactile experience of another body against his, and he wants to cling to Pat so tight until the pressure of their contact pushes the ache in his chest away.

“Brian, I don’t wanna rush you, you can set the pace, but if you want to — I mean, we can — “

“Please oh my god I want your cock in me,” Brian says in a rush, intuiting the end of his sentence from his stammering, and Pat makes a choked-off desperate sound, his hips rocking forward against Brian.

Brian reaches down between them, to get them both where they should be, and can’t resist indulgently wrapping his hand around Pat’s cock and giving him a few strokes. Pat drops his head and moans, takes big shuddering gasps of air.

“Christ, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” Pat confesses.

“You know, I can keep it going long enough that I bet we can get two rounds out of you, if you’re interested in that.”

Pat’s dick, at least, is interested in that; it twitches in Brian’s hand. He smiles.

“Alright, babe, just take it easy and you can go for it. Whenever you’re — _oh.”_ He can’t help it, the soft exhale, the way he grabs for Pat and winds up with his hands in Pat’s hair, the way he arches his back as Pat’s cock presses into him. He spreads his legs wider and gives a soft, needy whine. He almost regrets telling him to take it easy, because _god_ he just wants Pat to snap his hips up and fuck him into the bed, but it’s better with the leadup, it’ll be worth it.

And then when Pat is finally seated all the way inside him, Brian gives him breathless instructions, _if you feel moved to do so I pretty much can’t get off unless you do this,_ and shows Pat where he can rub to make Brian really make some goddamn noise, _but if you’re too distracted I won’t hold it against you, we can take care of me whenever,_ and then with that gives him permission to _fucking go for it._

He wasn’t expecting Pat to be so — enthusiastic, athletic about it, but he pounds into Brian like it’s his fucking life’s purpose, like it’s the only thing he could ever want to do, and Brian has to clamp a hand over his own mouth to muffle the sounds he’s making. Everyone else's rooms are across the house but that doesn't mean he's going to be _reckless_ about it, and he knows he can get real loud if he's not careful. Pat is much quieter but no less eager; his reactions are restricted, instead, to soft huffs and grunts and curses. He presses hungry openmouthed kisses indiscriminately across Brian’s face and neck and mouth and shoulders, wherever he’s closest to, biting down against a moan when something feels especially good, leaving bruises on his shoulders and chest.

He doesn’t ever want Pat to come because he doesn’t want to not have him inside him; but it feels so fucking good when he clenches around him that he knows he’s sending Pat to the edge fast. God, what he wouldn’t do to have his drawer of toys right now, so he could shove something else inside himself when Pat inevitably has to pull out —

Brian fucking _squeaks_ in surprise at the sensation when Pat’s thumb finds his clit, rolling it under his finger, and the way his muscles respond around Pat’s cock must really be something because Pat goes still and squeezes his eyes shut, gasping for breath, like he’s trying very hard not to come yet.

Brian does so appreciate a gentleman.

“Do that again,” Brian gets out, and Pat doesn’t even seem to need any thinking capacity to obey, which is an intriguing concept. “I’m gonna move your hand where I want it and then you just — oh _jesus god yes fuck yes_ just like that Pat Gill holy _shit_ do _not stop — ah —”_

He shuts his mouth, because he doesn’t need to talk anymore for Pat to do what he wants him to and he’s feeling his orgasm building fast, feels himself tense all over as he races towards the edge, and he only just barely has the presence of mind to shove his knuckles against his mouth to muffle what would otherwise be a shout as he comes, as Pat works him though it heroically even as his movements get less rhythmic. But it’s so easy, so _good_ to let himself go for Pat, to shudder apart, muscles spasming around Pat in the aftershocks, as Pat’s eyes close and his lips part around ragged breaths as he comes, his fingernails digging into Brian’s hip.

Pat collapses with a soft _oof_ against him, after that, and Brian makes a completely involuntary strangled noise when the motion makes Pat’s cock slip out of him.

“Oh, Jesus, sorry,” Pat says quickly.

“You’re good, you’re good, just real sensitive to anything going on down there right now, fuck, that was _wonderful,_ you’re a quick learner, Pat Gill.”

Pat just smiles at him, a rare broad genuine real smile that lights up his whole face. He pushes his face against the crook of Brian’s neck. “I like you a whole lot,” he says, against Brian’s skin.

“Oh, you get sappy after sex!” Brian says, delighted, and then realizes this is the wrong response. “And I like you _too,_ good god, more than I should.”

“Not if I like you that much too. Then it’s a normal amount and we can like each other unreasonable amounts together. That makes it reasonable.”

“You are sleepy,” Brian says, and kisses Pat’s head.

“I’m right.”

“Yeah you are, baby.”

Pat gives the very softest little _oh_ in response to that.

“You like that? Do you want me to call you baby?”

“I want you to call me anything,” Pat says softly. “I want to call you my boyfriend.”

Brian’s heart melts. Completely, absolutely, all at once. “What a coincidence, Pat Gill. I want to call you my boyfriend, too.”

Pat lifts his head to look at Brian and he’s still smiling, still looking more transcendentally happy than Brian has maybe ever seen. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Pat kisses him.

 

There’s less desperation in it, now that they’ve gotten it out of their systems a little; it starts out grateful and turns exploratory, curious, wanting — well, the last maybe more for Brian, who is still raring to go, who could fuck himself on Pat’s fingers or anything else if he so much as offered, but he doesn’t want to push him, not if he’s tired, not if he just wants to kiss or cuddle or sleep.

But then Pat bites Brian’s earlobe and tugs gently and tongues at the sensitive skin there and Brian writhes, as Pat takes his time mapping the skin of the side of Brian’s neck with his mouth. He doesn’t bite hard enough to leave marks, just enough to send little sparks through Brain, whose hips are already bucking up against nothing.

“You like that, baby?” Pat says, low and soft, close enough for Brian to feel his breath on his skin, and Brian can just nod with a little whimper. “Want me to get you off again?” Another nod, more enthusiastic, and Pat’s hand traces over Brian’s sternum, his stomach, and down between his legs. He’s still wet, and still has Pat’s cum inside him _(jesus fucking christ that sure is a thought),_ and Pat can slide two fingers inside him, easy, and it appeases the empty feeling, to have something to bear down around.

And, damn, Pat _is_ a quick study, easily finding the point on him that makes his whole body react again.

“Mm, yeah? That good?” Pat says, and Brian just nods. He knows his mouth is hanging open and his eyes are squeezed shut and it’s probably not very attractive but he can’t find it in himself to care, not with Pat chasing down his next climax. The second one’s always the easiest to get to, for him; he can already feel himself getting close. He moans when Pat adds a third finger, pressing into him, and he rocks his hips down against his hand, needing it, chasing the feeling.

“Patience, baby, I got you,” Pat murmurs, between soft kisses to Brian’s temple, his hair, the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what you need.” He’s on his side, curled around Brian who is still splayed out on his back, leaning over him a little, and Brian can reach up and get his hand in Pat’s hair, tilt his face up to get Pat to kiss him more.

“I — _nnh,_ Patrick, you can’t do that when I’m trying to _talk,_ you jerk — god, just keep doing what you’re doing, don’t fucking stop unless I say so, okay?”

“I think I can manage that,” says Pat, and kisses Brian. And, fuck, he trusts him with it, enough to stop trying so fucking hard, to make the conscious effort to relax and not try to take, to instead let Pat give. He doesn’t have to wring his own orgasm from himself, not right now; he can let his head loll back against the pillows and gasp for breath and let Pat kiss him and work him up and yeah, yes, _yeah._

“God, look at you,” Pat says softly. “Who gave you the right to be so fucking gorgeous, huh? Fuck, Brian, I’ve wanted you for _ages,_ I never thought I’d get to — get to do this with you. it’s even better than I hoped. You’re fucking incredible. I just want to make you feel so good, baby, I love how you look like this.”

He’s so — he always wants as much as he can take, constantly, all the time, about everything. And it takes effort, it really does, to just let Pat touch him, to not rock against his hand and try to bring himself off faster, but every time he does that Pat slows down a little bit, dragging it out, making him wait for it just a little. Not a lot, and Brian’s sure he’d quit it if he told him to, but — he doesn’t want to tell him to.

It’s an interesting exercise in patience, letting Pat fuck him with his fingers and just laying back and _feeling._ Hot tight pressure-pleasure, chest rising and falling as he breathes hard, shaking thighs, Pat’s hair in his hand, lips against his skin, the ache of wanting needing _receiving,_ the flood of heat deep in his bones, spasming around Pat’s fingers, arms going around Pat just so he has something to hold onto, warm skin on skin, a little sweaty, tucking his face against Pat’s shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Wow,” is Pat’s hushed response. Brian just hugs him. Oh, god, he doesn’t want to let go of him, even though now he knows he can do this anytime, now that they’ve got it out in the open, now that _boyfriends_ is the word on the table, but he clings to Pat anyway, maybe tighter than he needs to, maybe shakier than he wants to be.

“Hey, hey, babe, what’s going on, are you okay?” Pat asks, petting gently at Brian’s hair.

“I,” Brian starts, and then realizes he’s unexpectedly choked up, which is _embarrassing._ He pauses to gather himself a little better. “I just never thought — I’m really happy, Pat, I never thought you’d feel the same. I’ve been gone on you for ages, it’s ridiculous, and — I just don’t want to — sorry, god, I’m just having too many feelings. It’s just, you know, when you get something you’ve wanted so, so bad and you’re scared to let go ‘cause you don’t want to lose it again?”

“Oh, Brian,” Pat says softly. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” He holds Brian tight, and it does something to unspool some of the tight knot of overwhelm in his chest. “I like you too damn much. You’re stuck with me ‘till you tell me to fuck off.”

“Good thing I’m not gonna do that.”

“Then we’re on the same page, yeah? I’ve got you, Brian. I’m here.”

Brian knows they’re going to have to get up, at some point. They’re going to have to clean up and get ready for bed properly. They’re going to have to wake up way too early for how late they’ve already been up. They’re going to have to move, eventually.

But for right now, it’s more than enough to be pressed close against his boyfriend (!!!), to think of nothing more than how it feels to hold him, to be held by him. He can hear Pat’s heartbeat, with his head on his chest like this, feel him breathe just off-time with Brian.

There’s gonna be a lot to deal with, maybe. There’s gonna be conversations he has to have, people they have to tell, professional standards they’re going to have to keep.

But it’s so completely, entirely worth it, for how Pat traces absentminded patterns across Brian’s back and just stays.

He stays right there, letting Brian learn how to believe that even if he moves away, that doesn’t mean letting him go.


	2. in the dead of night or in the pouring rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surprise! this is multi-chaptered now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _it ain't no matter of "if," honey,_  
>  _it's just a matter of "when"_  
>  \- [work this body](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qzkCk6-d8Oc), walk the moon
> 
>  
> 
> i kept accidentally making puns in pat's dialogue so SORRY, I LEFT THEM ALL IN
> 
> this chapter features:  
> a buncha smut feat. brian never stops talking  
> a buncha talkin about particularities around sex (preferences, boundaries, language, etc.) bc theyre new to each other and both have some complex relationships with certain things (which is normal!!! who doesn't tbh) SO u gotta have those conversations! im definitely not projecting on either of them what are you talking about shush

It is, after last night, almost surreal to share a room with Pat.

More specifically, share a bed with Pat. There’s two single beds, but tonight Brian’s is abandoned. They’d skated out early from the evening socialization, both of them begging the excuse of wanting to catch up on sleep. Chelsea had raised an eyebrow, but hadn’t said anything.

(Brian’s pretty sure she caught sight of a bruise on his chest, earlier, while he was trying to pin a badge to his shirt. Whoops.)

It’s not even that late, yet, which is great because they were up way too goddamn long last night and Brian’s not sure how late either of them are gonna manage to hold out for tonight. But right now, Pat’s got his hands in Brian’s hair and Brian’s got his arms around Pat and they’re kissing. They’re still not used to it enough for the frantic edge to have smoothed out; there’s a desperation to it, a desire to get everything they can out of it, as though they don’t have all the time in the world.

(They’d been brushing their teeth that morning and Brian said, _this is going to last after E3, right?_ Pat had gently hip-checked him and said, _yeah, of course, Brian, I like you lots._ Brian hadn’t been able to stop smiling for a solid hour, after that.)

 

So they’re on Pat’s bed and Pat is on top of Brian. His hair is still damp from the shower, falling around his face and brushing Brian’s cheeks. His mouth is hot and he tastes like toothpaste and he’s pressed all up against Brian and it is so fucking good.

“Hey,” Pat says, against Brian’s mouth.

“Mmh?”

“Can I eat you out?”

Brian’s breathing stutters for a second. “Fuck _yes_ , Pat Gill, oh my god.”

Pat smiles, traces his thumb over Brian’s cheek. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses.

“Same. Likewise,” Brian says, with a little hum of approval as Pat slides his other hand up Brian’s shirt. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that? I want you so bad. Here, move a sec, let me take my shirt off.”

Pat sits back — takes the opportunity to take his own shirt off, while Brian pulls his t-shirt over his head. He’s less self-conscious, tonight; Pat’s already seen all of him, and he’s not worried about how it’ll go anymore. Pat runs his fingertips down the center of Brian’s chest, looking at him with such a gentle expression that Brian’s heart veritably melts.

“Kiss me,” Brian breathes, and Pat leans down to press their lips together, so softly. His hands rest on Brian’s hips; Brian puts his arms around Pat and pulls him close, reveling in the feeling of touching him. They’re both already — well, pretty worked up, to put it lightly; Brian hooks his leg around Pat’s and drags him down against him. Pat gasps, his hips bucking against Brian’s, and Brian can’t help the smug little grin he gets at that.

“Subtle,” Pat murmurs. “Tell me where you want me.”

“Wherever you wanna be.” Pause. “But probably between my legs, if you want my real opinion.”

Pat laughs. “Somehow, I guessed that.”

Brian grins at him, kisses his cheek, and then nudges him out of the way so he can take his pants off. Pat watches him with those dark eyes of his, intent.

As soon as Brian lets him, Pat ducks down to press slow, openmouthed kisses to Brian’s inner thighs. He drags his tongue along the muscle there, and Brian draws a sharp breath. Pat’s eyes flick up to Brian’s face, to check if that was a good sound; Brian gives him a quick nod. 

“I assume you’re gonna backseat drive here too?” Pat quips.

“Shut _up_ ,” Brian huffs. “You asked!”

“I did. This is me asking again. It’s just that I’m a dick. I’m sorry about it.”

“Well, step one, you gotta use your mouth for things other than being a snarky motherfu _uu_ — okay okay okay point taken, fuck, you can do _that_ again.”

Pat laughs and presses a quick kiss to the inside of Brian’s thigh, and then drags his tongue over Brian’s entrance again. Brian moans softly; Pat, encouraged, repeats the action, more deliberately.

“Yeah, baby, yeah. Just like that, work me up a little — fu _uuck_ yes, yeah, that’s really good. You can put your tongue in if you w — want,” he says, his breath hitching. Pat does — _something_ , with his tongue, curls it to flick against his clit, and whatever Brian does in response to that must be encouraging because he does it again.

“Fuck, okay, whatever you’re doing is — _yes_ , it’s good, yes, save it though, okay? I need — I need more time to work up to it first, you _could_ keep doing that but you’d get tired before I come and that wouldn’t be fun for anyone —”

“Would not.”

“Would too. Try it some other time. I’m right.”

Pat pouts; Brian rolls his eyes.

“Have you, like. Have you done anything like this before?” Brian says.

“No, I have not eaten anyone’s ass, sorry to disappoint,” Pat says, throwing Brian’s polite phrasing out the window. Brian snorts. “I hope my lack of credentials doesn’t dissuade you from giving me a chance at the position,” he adds, teasing, wiggling his eyebrows at the double entendre.

“Oh my god,” Brian says. “You’re the worst.”

“You _like_ me.”

“I do, and you are also the worst. No wonder you haven’t eaten anyone out, you’re too busy talking,” Brian jokes.

Pat makes a face at him. “You’re the one asking questions, B-D-G. Also you’re one hundred percent joking, and I know this, and it’s very funny and I am amused and you’re really cute, but I’m also taking the opportunity to share a real truth, which is that the reason for it is actually that I am like, super fucking unable to rim anyone ever, full stop, and I’m so goddamn high-maintenance about anal stuff — hah here’s a really good joke, I’m anal about anal —”

“Patrick Gill I cannot _believe_ you, that is the worst joke I have _ever_ heard —”

“Anyway, I know that’s not, like, on the program right now, I just figured it was a decent opportunity to share, I dunno.”

“No, that’s good to know, I’m glad you’re telling me.” Brian runs a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to settle himself down enough so he can, like, actually hold a proper conversation, because it seems like they’ve well and truly hit the pause button. “What do you mean high-maintenance?”

“I mean, like, if I’m on the giving end it’s all, gloves and condoms and whatever, and I’m allergic to latex so that is a fun additional pain in the ass — oh my god that’s another very good joke —”

“ _Pat_.”

Pat grins at him. “Anyway, so it’s a whole production. Don’t get me wrong, I like it — both ways, quite a lot, in fact, and honestly it’s a lot better if I receive because then I can just be a needy bitch and get my partner to do everything for me and then I don’t have to fret about it. Plus, like, I mean — stop _smirking_ — look, I really _would_ consider myself a switch, I just maybe, possibly, perhaps, have a little bit of a preference, hangups notwithstanding.”

“When we get home, I’m gonna peg you, and that’s a goddamn promise,” Brian says, and the look on Pat’s face at that is one that Brian will treasure _for ever_. “Also, for real, don’t worry about being high-maintenance, or whatever you said, like — puh- _lease_ , that’s no stranger than any of my hangups about sex. When it comes to ‘having weird contradictory and confusing needs and wants in bed,’ you have definitely found the right partner to completely fucking understand.”

Pat looks… genuinely relieved, and Brian feels a little twist of anger at whoever’s given him shit for this in the past.

“I’m never gonna ask you to do something you don’t want to do, and no matter how many extra steps it takes, I always want to do what makes you feel comfortable.” Brian pauses. “Are you okay doing this, or do you need something to change?”

“No, not at all, this is really great, actually. Like. I wasn’t sure how it was gonna go down, but I really wanted to try — _wait goddammit I made another pun again_ — stop _laughing_ at me you dork — _anyway_ it turns out like, this is totally fine, I’m really good with doing this. I just figured — since it came up — I might as well tell you, so you know now rather than later —”

“I appreciate it. Thank you,” Brian says, and kisses the tip of Pat’s nose. Pat scrunches his nose at him. “Cute.”

“You’re cute. Uh. While we’re stopped, is there anything you need or want me to know? Convenient time to mention it.”

“Gosh, uh. See, the thing is, all my weird specifications are things I fuckin’ completely forget about until they come up and it’s like, oh shit oops. So, like, I don’t mind you trying shit, because if something goes sideways I can almost always handle it super well, there’s nothing that’s going to freak me out too bad, probably, because you’re a good person and you, like, respect me. Really the biggest thing is just, like, the way conversation around everything is framed. Y’know?”

“Uh. Maybe?”

“Like, I mean, there’s not a single goddamn word for _vagina_ that doesn’t make my fucking skin crawl. Including that one. But I don’t really like to call it a dick, or whatever, but if I’m wearing a strap-on I’m fine with that being called my dick. It’s just a whole bunch of, like, here’s the list of extremely specific ways that I’m alright with referring to my junk, and here’s the list of random ways I don’t really like to be touched, and here’s the list of — of things that are like, if you conceptualize this as — as like, fuck, in some gender-essentialist way or something — god, that’s the one thing that makes me flip the fuck out, is if a partner gets weird about gender shit. Like, fuck _off_ , y’know?”

“People do that?” Pat says, and seems genuinely surprised and indignant on Brian’s behalf, because he is a dear sweet sheltered angel.

“Not gonna lie, babe, it’s more surprising when a cis person _doesn’t_ do that. I won’t hold it against you if it happens. Everyone makes mistakes,” Brian says, with a dismissive shrug.

“No, that’s stupid, I don’t — there’s no part of you that’s — I mean like — god I feel like it sounds so performative or something to say this, but, like, I don’t get why what anyone’s got in their pants has any bearing on how anyone else sees them? And I swear to god I’m not just saying that, and if I ever fuck something up you are well within your rights to get really goddamn mad at me, because I’ll deserve it.”

“I knew you were a good one,” Brian says. He rests his forehead against Pat’s. “I won’t get mad at you, if that happens. I might get upset. But I won’t be mad at you.”

“I’d be mad at me. But I’ve got no right to tell you what you’re supposed to feel.”

“I guess my point is, probably the best way to handle anything you’re not sure about is to just straight-up stop and ask, and follow my lead with the language I prefer to use for myself. Does that seem reasonable?”

“More than,” Pat says. “Can I kiss you? I don’t know how you feel about that after I’ve, uh.”

Brian laughs. “You’re fine, feel free.”

Pat steals a quick kiss, followed by a sweet little smile. “That’s all. I just wanted to make you smile.”

Brian groans dramatically and covers his face with his hands. “Patrick Gill, you are cute as _fuck_ and it will be the death of me!”

Pat just grins at him. “Is there anything else you want me to know before we get back into this? Uh, assuming of course that you still want to —“

“I _super_ want to, trust me. If you’re in, I’m in. And t-b-h I think most of it is just technique, so if you don’t mind me, uh, _backseat driving_ , I think I can work on the fly, there.”

“Brat,” Pat mumbles, fondly.

“Oh, baby, you don’t know the half of it,” Brian says cheerfully. “Bossy top or bratty power bottom, bay-bee, you take your pick.”

“Christ,” Pat says. “God, could we be a better match?”

“Haha, what?”

Pat leans in close, his lips nearly touching Brian’s. “Please, tell me what to do,” he breathes. Winks. “Daddy.”

“Fucking — fuck, Patrick, I’m going to kick your _ass_ ,” Brian yelps, because he _felt_ that hit him between the legs, and Pat leans back, laughing; Brian’s laughing too, a little helplessly. “Fuck you, you asshole, you can’t joke about that or I’ll take you seriously and then _die_.”

Pat goes quiet, and his face is flushed, and some puzzle pieces click.

“Unless you’re not joking —“

“I can be joking,” Pat says quickly. “That was a little bit of a joke. Uh. Mostly, uh, just me being a shithead and seeing if I could push a button there.”

“Surprise! You found one. Though I’ve never had anyone not be a fucking _dick_ about it —“

“Oh jesus christ, no,” Pat says, looking stricken. “No, no no no, that’s not — it was — I was supposed to be the butt of the joke there, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to —“

“No, it’s — I just — I didn’t know for sure the angle it was coming from.”

“I, uh. Well. I’m into it. But I know lots of people aren’t. And if you aren’t, or if it feels like I’m making fun of you I will never say it again in my entire life.”

“No, not at all, I’m super into it. Like, both ways, as a matter of fact?”

“Oh, me _too_.”

“God, you’re right, Pat Gill, we are such a good match. I’m gonna veto that for tonight? But I _def-i-nite-ly_ want to explore that in the future.”

“Fuck yeah,” Pat says.

Brian grins. “Okay, have we sufficiently discussioned?”

“I think so. I’m good, anyway.”

“Me too. Wanna get back down to business, baby boy? Oh my god, I _just said no_ on daddy shit, now I’ve gone and done this.”

“Terrible,” Pat says, but he’s smiling. “I won’t tell. Now we’re square, I think.”

“True.”

“Can I go back to eating you out?”

“Can you please? Save me from myself.”

 

Pat hefts Brian’s legs over his shoulders — _ooh yes please thank you_ — and teases at Brian with his tongue, soft light touches to get him back into it again. That’s nice, that’s really nice, Brian could just lay back and let him do that for _ages_.

On his own, Brian’s definitely, like, not so indulgent — and he’s been single for _quite a while_ , and it’s so so nice for someone to take their time with him. Pat takes it slow, explorative, seeing what gets a reaction from Brian.

“Fuck yes, that feels _so_ good, god, you could keep doing that all fuckin’ night. Yeah — _yeah_ , it doesn’t actually make me come but god, it feels incredible when y’just work at my entrance like that _fuck, Pat_ —”

“Do you want me to use my fingers too?”

“Yes, yeah, whatever you want,” Brian says, breathlessly, and then can’t help but moan as Pat presses a finger into him and reapplies his mouth to the task at hand. “Okay, _hah_ , fuck, remember what I said you should hold off on before, well, you should come b _acktothatnow_ ,” Brian gasps, his words slurring together as Pat gets his mouth against his clit, his back arching.

Pat puts his free hand on Brian’s hip, holds him down so he can’t buck up against Pat’s face — oops — and pushes a second finger into Brian. He moves slowly, holding him open to slide his tongue between the V of the base of his fingers, and Brian keens — _god yes more of that_. Pat chases the reaction, with an appreciative hum that Brian can feel inside himself; Brian shoves his knuckles against his teeth to bite against the whine that escapes him.

“This — I — you — I need, fuck, _fuck_ , you gotta just — I can’t come unless you —” and then he cuts off into a sort of really fucking embarrassing squeak as Pat intuits what he’s getting at. He fucks Brian with his fingers, his mouth on his clit, driving him hard and fast to the edge now. Brian throws his head back, gasping, one hand clutching at his own hair. He might be digging his heel into Pat’s back, he’s not super sure, he hopes it doesn’t hurt, but Pat doesn’t let up so it must not be so bad.

He does his very fucking best to keep it down, keeps his hand against his mouth so he doesn’t fucking _screech_ again. But it’s hard because it’s — it’s so — it’s hardly much longer before he’s twitching against Pat and giving a muffled sort of cry as a rush of electric heat floods through him.

He collapses against the sheets, breathing hard, and Pat sits up, grinning. His lips and chin are wet with spit and — _god_ — and his face is flushed and he looks very goddamn pleased with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, you did good, go clean up a bit and we’ll take care of you,” Brian says, with a gentle shove at Pat’s arm and a quick kiss to his cheek. Pat makes an attempt at a pout, but doesn’t succeed because he is too busy looking smug. Fair enough.

 

Pat hops back up on the bed and presses a quick kiss to Brian’s jaw. Brian turns to kiss him; he’s back to tasting like mint, bless him, and he sighs and curls a hand around Brian’s hip.

“Okay, I will admit, you might’ve been right about what you said about not being able to keep that up for all that long,” Pat confesses.

“Told you. No one’s got that much tongue stamina.”

“Please don’t say ‘tongue stamina’ again, that’s an awful combination of words.”

Brian giggles and kisses him again. And then licks Pat’s lip as unsexily as he can manage, for good measure, to make Pat laugh too. “Okay, so, what d’you wanna do? I’m still totally good to go if you want to fuck, or if you’re all one-good-turn-deserves-another I can go down on you, or… uh, I dunno, what’cha got in mind?”

“How the fuck can you just keep going like that,” Pat breathes, pulling Brian closer with the arm around his back.

“Sexy witchcraft,” Brian says, because as much as he likes Pat’s smooth sultry low voice, he likes it just as much when he can get Pat to break character from it and laugh. “No, for real, they don’t teach you this in sex ed but people with my, uh, setup can often come more then once, it’s not even uncommon. Told you yesterday, I wasn’t joking when I said I can come like four times in an hour under the right circumstances, a-k-a pretty regularly ‘cause if I’m gonna go to the effort to get off, might as well go out. Personal record’s seven in an hour, I think? Though that’s a _lot_. That’s like, okay someone get me a cool washcloth so I can get de-sweated and then pass the fuck out amounts of a lot.”

“Jesus _Christ_.”

“But that’s, like, with toys and stuff, it’s a lot harder with, uh, manual or oral stimulation,” Brian says, drawing out the syllables to be flippant about the technical terms. “Vibrators were a _really good invention_. Anyway.” He pauses, and takes in the way Pat is staring at him, and laughs. “It’s normal, Patrick, come on. The patriarchal institution that keeps this knowledge from people learning about sexuality is garbage, but man, figuring it out makes a person really fun to fuck. Speaking of. D’you wanna?”

“Yeah,” Pat breathes. “Shit, dude, I should’ve done my fuckin’ research so I don’t look like a total horny dumbass.”

“That’s okay. You’re my favorite horny dumbass,” Brian says, and emphasizes this with a kiss. “Besides, you probably shouldn’t be reading about any genitalia on the convention floor.”

Pat makes an _ew_ face. “True.”

“Can I ride you?”

“ _Fuck_ yes.”

“Scoot, then, c’mon, we’re too close to the edge of the bed for athletics.”

Pat snorts and duly scoots.

 

Pat is gorgeous. Brian knows this; Brian has known this since _basically forever_. He is somehow, impossibly, even more so like this, beneath Brian, his dark hair fanned out on the pillow, his eyes closed, his face flushed. His hands are on Brian’s thighs — not gripping, yet, just holding. Brian can see the way his chest rises and falls as he forces himself to keep steady as Brian settles, adjusts to the feeling of Pat’s cock inside him.

It’s quite impressive, actually, how placid Pat looks, even though Brian can tell from a thousand subtler gestures he’s nowhere near it. His lips are parted and his eyebrows are drawn; his muscles are taut with tension, but he’s so _polite_ , doesn’t even dig his fingers into the meat of Brian’s thigh or anything, though Brian would certainly not mind.

“Beautiful,” Brian murmurs. Pat draws a shivery breath, at that, as though the word has a physical impact. He wonders how long he can stay still like this, keep this desperate-grateful look on Pat’s face. “Baby, you look so good like this, I could just stay here and look at you all night.”

“That’s very sweet and you’re hot as hell but _please god will you just fuck me already_ ,” Pat says, breathless, and Brian laughs and shifts his weight on Pat and yep, that does it, Pat’s thumb digs into the soft inside of Brian’s thigh.

“I _guess_ ,” Brian teases, and lifts himself so he can drop all the way back down on Pat’s cock and Pat makes a cracked sort of moan. He tries to rock his hips up but Brian’s got him well and truly pinned, and it’s not like he can, uh, be more inside Brian than he already is, anyway. “God, I wish we didn’t have to be so quiet, I’d love to hear all the sounds you can make.”

“Fuck,” Pat breathes; a sentiment Brian wholly concurs with.

“I wanna make you _scream_ , but you gotta be quiet for me, okay? You’re so good, I know you can do it. Hey, what, you’re not supposed to laugh at that!”

“Sorry,” says Pat, with a quick apologetic kiss. “It’s very hot. You’re very hot. I just go quiet when I’m really worked up, that’s all. So I dunno how you’d manage that.”

“I’m sure I could come up with something,” Brian says, with his wickedest smirk.

“God, you know what, I don’t doubt it,” Pat groans, as Brian rolls his hips. “You’re too good.”

“Mm. You’re gorgeous and I want to make you feel good. Is that so wrong?” Oh, fuck, _yes_ ; he finds a really good angle and moans, repeats the motion in rapid succession. Pat gives a ragged gasp and clutches at Brian.

“Brian, god, fuck, if you keep going that — _fuck_ baby I’m not gonna last long,” Pat says, his voice tight, breathy.

“Good,” Brian says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw, “good, yes, come for me, baby, I want you to. You’re so —” Fuck, it’s good to watch Pat’s face while he does this; he’s panting openmouthed and his eyes are squeezed shut and his brow is furrowed and Brian can watch the tension-relief cross his face every time he moves, it’s fucking _incredible_. “You’re perfect, baby, c’mon, you can do it, come for me, Pat, I want you to come inside me, you feel _so_ good —”

Damn — well first of all, he’s fucking _smug_ that that’s the thing that got him; and second, Pat really did call it, how his moan breaks off into slack-jawed silence when his breath hitches. He clutches at Brian as he works him through it, hips jerking up off the bed. It takes a long moment for Brian to stop being distracted by Pat’s perfect face for long enough to remember that he wants to get himself off again.

He shifts to balance himself on one hand and his knees so he can rub at his clit — god he’s so fucking bad at doing this with his hands on himself what the _fuck_ he is a twenty-five year old man he should probably have worked out a decent technique by now, shouldn’t he? — and is halfway between desperate and just plain old frustrated when Pat gently takes him by the wrist, moves Brian’s hand away to replace his fingers with his own.

It’s probably, maybe, _hopefully_ , the third-person perspective that makes Pat so, like, quick to find exactly what works for Brian, because probably it’s just that Brian’s too — too distracted by feeling to have — to have fine motor control, it’s not so fucking complicated to deal with a dick — _fuck — jesus christ, Patrick_ —

Brian curls forward against him, his face against his chest, whining against his skin as his muscles tighten, clench around him. Pat’s other hand goes to the back of Brian’s head, his fingers in his hair, as Brian bites down against a moan as Pat chases him over the edge.

 

He’s panting, collapsed on top of Pat, as Pat pulls away and out and settles a hand at the small of Brian’s back.

“You okay, baby?” Pat murmurs into his hair. “You had me a little worried there for a second.”

“Yeah,” Brian says, but keeps his face hidden against his chest. “Just — stresses me out when I can’t make myself come, I’unno, I’m bad at it when I’ve gotta do it like that.”

“Hey, that’s totally fair. Did — was it okay that I —?”

“Yes. Yeah, yes, absolutely, you saved me from myself,” Brian says, and finally glances up at Pat to give him a little sideways half-smile. Pat smiles back, looking relieved. “Jeez, I really must’ve pulled a face, huh?”

“Little bit,” Pat admits.

Brian gives a little fretful sigh. “I, uh. I used to get super freaked out, when I would try to get off, ‘cause I couldn’t figure out how to do it for a really, really long time, and it’s. Unfortunately super easy to, like, fall back into that headspace the first second I don’t get it right. I, um, found out the hard way that I can’t do, like, even a little bit of teasing orgasm delay, I completely fucking shut down like half the time even still, it’s so bad.”

“That’s good to know,” Pat says, tracing his fingertips along Brian’s spine.

“Yeah. I, uh. Figured that’s probably a good warning to have up-front, hah. On the other hand, though, I can go real hard the opposite direction. Like, wow, if I can’t start and stop, least I can come a zillion fucking times and just, friggin’ plow through it instead.”

“You don’t have to make up for it, you know.”

“Oh, I know! I also very much like to be overwhelmed. But, um. If you’re not so into that, I totally get it. I can be, uh, a lot, I know —”

“I like it,” Pat says. He kisses Brian’s head. “I like _you_. I’m happy to try all the things you like and be really fuckin’ careful to avoid the things you don’t.”

“How come you’re the best, why did I wait so long for this, gosh,” Brian says, in a tone of affectionate complaint. He rolls off Pat and curls up against his side. Pat keeps petting at his hair, at his back. “Oh, jeez, sorry for biting,” Brian says, tracing his fingertip over a circle of bite marks on Pat’s pec. Pat follows his gaze and laughs.

“Damn,” he says; he’s grinning.

“Shut _uuup_ ,” Brian whines, but he’s smiling too. “I’m onto you, mister,” he adds, poking Pat in the chest, “you _like_ it when I say those things to you.”

Pat’s face goes a very satisfying pink. 

“I’m not really up for more right now but,” Brian says, leaning in to tuck his head against Pat’s shoulder, to whisper close to his ear, low and filthy, “how d’you like thinking about the fact that you could put your fingers inside me right now and feel your cum?”

“Fuck,” Pat says, on a punched-out exhale. “Jesus, Brian, you can’t just _say_ shit like that, do you want to murder me?”

Brian laughs, kisses his cheek. “Sorry. I won’t anymore if you don’t want me to. Promise. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“No, I don’t mind. Uh. More than don’t mind. Was that what you thought I’d do?”

“Pretty much to the letter, yeah,” Brian says, grinning.

Pat sighs, longsuffering. “At least I’m predictable, I guess.”

“It’s hot, don’t even worry about it. I’m into it too, or else I wouldn’t be teasing you about it.” He kisses his face again. “This is really good. You’re really good. I like you so much, Pat.”

Pat’s expression goes — so fucking soft, with a gentle, almost shy smile. He runs his fingers through Brian’s hair. “I like _you_ ,” he says. “Kiss me?”

“Mm, okay. Then get ready for bed. Then sleep.”

“Sounds perfect,” Pat says, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;p
> 
> i guess this really is a whole dang au now?? i feel like there might be one more chapter in this specific fic (which is not written, so i have absolutely no time estimate on When sdfkjghdskf), and i'm sure more's to come in other installments too!
> 
> anyway thanks for reading like comment and subscribe

**Author's Note:**

> they shoulda taken brian to e3 too ok  
> also there's something here (esp in the ending) about having a ldr where you hardly ever get to see your partner because theyre Really far away and then having your next partner be someone who you see constantly all the time and never have to be far from if you dont want to be. but i didn't expound upon it very well (and also kind of don't want to get into that too deep anyway, in this context). but it sure is a mood for someone who's Lived That
> 
> kudos and comments pay the bills!
> 
> i am, as always, being a gremlin @segmentcalled on twitter! I KEEP FORGETTING TO SAY, but if you send a follow req please also comment letting me know that you have done that (and maybe with some sort of indication of what ur twitter is sdkfjgshdfkj even just like... what letter ur un starts with or what ur icon looks like if youd rather be private abt the name)! i have a couple reqs waiting so if that's you please lmk and i'll accept! i just prefer to know who ppl are before i accept the request, u know how it is, this specific fandom is fucken Wild


End file.
